


Hit You With The Real Thing

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Casual Sex, Comedy of Errors, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar, Gay For You, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Confusion, Sexual Tension, Undecided Relationship(s), realistic sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:53:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: It was all well and good admitting their feelings over the phone, but now Nicky and Mark have to put their newfound attraction into practice.





	Hit You With The Real Thing

Three weeks.

Three fucking weeks.

The fucking, of course, was not literal. Three weeks, though. Since Nicky had seen that smile. Touched him. Smelled him. Three weeks of waiting near the phone and hoping Mark would ring before he did, then doing it himself anyway, despite having the distinct feeling he was being overbearing.

He didn't know if he was. Didn't know how to approach any of this, whether some sort of protocol applied to the mixed-up turmoil he'd found this friendship suddenly in. Despite three weeks of phone-calls and messages, he suspected he was still not much the wiser.

It wasn't a situation he'd ever had to approach. He'd tried to tell himself Mark was just as nervous, just as terrifyingly inexperienced as he was. Still, Mark wasn't the one whose voice cracked whenever he laughed too loud at a comment about...

Well.

...sex.

Which Nicky wasn't unaquainted with. Of course he wasn't. He was a grown man of twenty-one-and-a-quarter who'd been around the proverbial block more than once. Maybe not down this alleyway, exactly, but he'd certainly jogged past it once or twice, taken a nervous glance down it, then moved on to safer streets.

Streets with... more compatible parts.

Which had dropped off his list of preferred real-estate right around the time Mark had kissed him.

He couldn't say how it had happened, but kissed he was. Kissing back, a second later, Mark's suitcases in the hall waiting to be picked up and Nicky stood in his bandmate's hotel room, melting like a sundae in a furnace, Mark's hands on his hips while Nicky had _clung_ to his shoulders and tried not to go spilling into a puddle on the carpet.

When he'd finally remembered about breathing Mark had been blushing red, stammering something that might have been an apology.

Then they'd gone down to the car and been off to Heathrow, neither looking at the other while Kian and Shane had sat obliviously between them, Nicky's heart hammering a drumbeat and his jeans far too tight.

He hadn't had time for soul-searching. Airport. Plane. Seatbelts. Tray-tables. Up, down, the bump of the landing, a couple of autographs for waiting fans, and then into a car again, the airport left behind while the three Sligo lads climbed into another car headed west, laughing and talking about what they planned to do for Christmas.

He'd seen it, though. Blue eyes darting guiltily over while Nicky had waved goodbye.

The call had come two days later. Hi, I thought we should talk. Nicky had agreed that was probably true, and so they had, and within ten minutes stilted apologies had turned to soft confessions, and Nicky had felt a charge in his chest he hadn't before. Something deep and validating, like a lightbulb had come on somewhere he'd been sure wasn't even connected. Then there'd been laughter, and echoes of words he'd never thought to say.

So, three weeks. Christmas and New Year's spent telling his family all the great and exciting things that had happened since he'd been swept away by the first mumblings of fame and success. People he'd met and places he'd been, and when his mother had asked whether he was still getting on with the other lads, if they were nice, Nicky had said yeah, they were all good lads, and felt his heart fight the urge to say Mark's name.

And now Mark was stood in the doorway of the flat they were sharing in London, looking shyly at Nicky as though they hadn't spoken since that awkward kiss. Kian was complaining about the traffic, Bryan was asking if anyone wanted lunch, and Mark was biting his lip while Nicky said hello.

“Hi,” Mark replied. Nicky saw an almost hysterical grin dart across his face before it was reigned back in. “How... was your holiday?”

“It was nice.” Nicky nodded. “And yours?”

“Yes. Nice.” He sounded like he was reading it off a script. Nicky bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing. “Erm... better put my things away, then?” He glanced towards the stairs. “Er.”

“Would you like some help?”

“I wouldn't want to put you out.”

“No trouble.” Nicky picked up the smaller bag.

The trip up the stairs was painfully slow, made worse by Kian's remark that he had bags too, thank you very much, if Nicky was going to be helpful. Nicky ignored him. Followed Mark upstairs, sneaking a curious glance at his bum on the way. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel about Mark's bum. Wasn't even sure what he felt about Mark. Still, when the door closed behind them and the silence fell in, there was a hot anticipation he couldn't name. Something flusteringly tense that only tightened when Mark put his bag down and turned around.

“Here we are, then.”

“Here, definitely,” Nicky agreed lamely. Saw Mark struggle not to laugh. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Hesitant half-step forward. Nicky mirrored it. “So... weird few weeks.” Nicky nodded. There was an awkward, jostling moment when they both leaned in for a hug but went different directions. Nicky giggled, moving the hand that had collided with Mark's in mid-air, put it on his hip instead. Felt two strong arms settle around his own waist, hanging loose and unsure for a moment, then tightening when Nicky rested his chin on Mark's right shoulder, his spare hand on the left.

He breathed in. Realised he'd never really noticed Mark's smell before. Breathed in again when he realised how much he'd missed it.

“Are we doing this?” Mark said quietly. Nicky closed his eyes.

“I don't know,” he admitted. “I didn't think about it before, but...” He felt a shy kiss drift through his hair and had to keep his knees locked to avoid slithering to the floor. “I want it. I want you. If you want me as well.” When he opened his eyes and looked up, it was to stare at Mark's chin. Couldn't look higher, in case Mark's eyes said he'd been thinking differently.

“I do. Want you. I...” He felt Mark swallow. Felt his own heart flood with terrified joy. Scraping stubble as he moved to nuzzle into Mark's jaw, unable to help it, just needing more of that _smell_. Could feel stiffness against him that he didn't know how to ignore. A hand pressed to his lower back, pulling in, and when he turned it was to soft breath on his mouth.

The kiss barely pressed. It clung. Atoms of connection between them. Breathing in his taste. The second one was more sure, chaste at first until Nicky shifted down, his bottom lip caught while he let Mark's top one slip in. The moan that rumbled between them was heaven. He was about to come in his fucking pants.

It separated with both of them licking their lips, both with hot cheeks and bright eyes. Nicky gulped back his arousal. Realised he was feeling it more keenly than he'd ever thought possible. A ragged, fraying shudder of _want_ , made worse by the look he was getting. The one that said the bed was just there. Three steps further than Nicky suspected he could last.

He was about to lean in again when there was a knock at the door.

“Nicky! Phone!”

“Fuck...” Nicky rested his head on Mark's shoulder, heard a laugh. “Who is it?!”

“Your dad!”

“You'd better get it,” Mark murmured. Nicky nodded. He was going to. As soon as he figured out how to let go of Mark's hip. And his shoulder. Mark's hand was still on the small of his back. Hot brand that shifted when he kissed Nicky's cheek. “Go on.”

“Yeah.” The knock came again. “I'm _coming_ Shane!” Wrenched himself away. Saw Mark turn away from the door so Shane wouldn't see what Nicky had been pressed against for one and a half tortuous minutes.

He spoke to his dad. It wasn't enormously important, just checking he'd arrived okay. By the time he was off, Mark was back downstairs, sat talking to Bryan in the kitchen. Nicky gestured surreptitiously at the stairs. Mark shook his head. And that was fair enough. There was nothing helped by the two of them sneaking off by themselves, not with three other people in the house.

So they settled. Watched some TV, got unpacked. Kian took a phone-call from Louis letting them know their schedule for the next morning, and the next fifteeen mornings after that. Organised down to the wire as usual. It was hectic, but Nicky couldn't say he wasn't grateful. Number one of the Christmas and the millennium. It was an insane thought. Fool Again was probably going to be next. They were working like mad. Every show, every magazine, every radio programme. Public appearances and photo-shoots and signings.

It was exhilerating. Exhausting.

They stayed up late. It was frustrating, waiting for the others to go to bed. Hanging on every yawn, trying not to pester Bryan about whether he looked tired, actually. Eventually Shane announced he was going to get some sleep, and a minute later Kian followed, then Mark, tromping up the stairs with a questioning glance that darted over his shoulder.

“Might go up as well,” Nicky yawned. Bryan nodded.

“Cool. I'm going to watch telly for a bit.” He stretched, tilted back further in the recliner. Nicky nodded.

“We've got an early one tomorrow.”

“I'm alright. Slept on the plane.” He looked settled. Nicky climbed to his feet, not sure if that was good enough. He supposed they weren't going to make too much noise, and the TV would probably drown anything out.

He climbed the stairs with his heart in his mouth. Pushed open Mark's bedroom door.

Empty.

He looked around, not sure what to make of it. Bathroom, maybe. Checked there, but the light was off and there was no sign of Mark.

Oh.

His own bedroom door opened with a creak. He blinked in the dark, saw the black shape sitting beneath his duvet resolve itself into a nervous boy in a t-shirt and boxers, crosslegged with his back against the pillows.

“Hey,” Nicky whispered. Pushed the door closed, then locked it for good measure. Realised it was too fucking dark now, but didn't want to turn on the light. It felt better like this. Secret and safe. He edged towards the bed, trying not to stub his toe, hands out in front to stop himself running into anything.

A hand linked with his, fingers lacing between his own.

He swallowed nervously. Let it guide him into the bed, on his knees and moving blind, the drapes drawn and his eyes still adjusting.

“Where are you?” he laughed. Heard Mark snort in the darkness. “Fucking can't see anything.” He reached with his free hand, trying to find the rest of Mark. Heard another laugh. “Marco?”

“Polo,” Mark replied. A kiss pressed to Nicky's cheek. “Bryan in bed?”

“Watching TV. He won't hear.” The kiss breathed its way down his neck. Nicky purred. “I have no idea what I'm doing.”

“Me either.” They were beginning to sink, though, Mark shuffling backwards, both of them guiding their way onto the mattress. Nicky closed his eyes, though it didn't make much difference. Felt fingers fumble at his shirt buttons. Fumbled back, looking for something to pull away from the hot skin he could feel under soft cotton. Whispered moan in his ear.

“Want you.”

“God, yes,” Mark agreed. Nicky felt something. Closed his hand over it and started an exploring stroke. Thick, through fabric, and not as hard as he'd expected, but he supposed Mark was as nervous as he was. “What are you doing?”

“Was going to wank you off?”

“Okay, well, that's a bit of the blanket,” Mark chuckled. Nicky let go, blushing. “Do you want a light on?”

“No. Be fine in a second.” They rolled. Mark on top this time, Nicky shifting awkwardly onto his back, trying to figure out where he was.

The crack of his elbow off the bedhead wasn't ideal.

“Ow...” He winced, pulling it around to rub it. It was a good hit, too, numbness spreading like wildfire, dragging pins and needles behind it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Nicky sighed. Mark was laughing. Too hard. He felt a face land in the crook of his shoulder, muffling loud snorts. He punched Mark in the side. Heard a 'mph' in response that turned into more laughter. “Shut up. Someone'll hear you,” he hissed lamely. “This isn't working, is it?” he grumbled.

“It's fine,” Mark chuckled. Nicky shoved him again. “I'm going to put the light on.” He felt Mark shift, heard a click, then blinked in the sudden brightness. There were tears of laughter in Mark's eyes.

“ _You okay in there?”_

“Fine!” they both called back, then he saw Mark's face drop when he realised he'd replied out of habit. They both winced. There was a long pause from outside the door.

“ _What are you two doing?”_

“Nothing!” Nicky called back. There was more silence. “Night, Shane!” Footsteps tromped away. He looked at Mark, who was staring down, cheeks flushed. “Think he can hear us.”

“Think he can,” Mark sighed. He bit his lip. “I... don't want to do it like this. Worrying if...”

“I know. You're right.” Nicky ran a hand over his face. “Fuck.”

“Maybe I should just go back to my room.”

“I...” Nicky didn't want him to. Didn't want him to badly. Still, he'd gone back to half-mast around the time he'd battered his elbow, and Mark was looking at him in a way that suggested things had probably gone off for him as well. “I suppose you should, yeah.” He leaned up, pressed a kiss to soft lips that parted against his own mouth. “Want you,” he breathed as it parted. Felt Mark wriggle. “Not like this.”

“No.” The separation when Mark pushed away was torture. Worse when he crept back across the room, following the shadow thrown by the lamplight. The door creaked open. Blue eyes locked apologetically with his. “Night Nicky.”

“Night,” Nicky sighed.

The door closed.

Nicky flopped back into the pillow with a groan.

  
  


*

  
  


The second time they tried to do it was two weeks later.

A long time. A really fucking long time, though again the fucking wasn't nearly as literal as Nicky wanted. Two weeks of being with each other all the time, always with someone else in sight or earshot. If they'd been on the road it might have been different, being able to sneak into Mark's hotel room, but they were in London and it was always the five of them together, in a car or at a studio.

They didn't talk about it. There wasn't time. Still, it felt like something was progressing, even if it was just being in each other's company, knowing there was something happening even while it wasn't. Seeing the change in the way Mark spoke to him, the surreptitious kindnesses like holding open a door or asking if Nicky wanted a bottle of water when he was getting one. Nicky felt it in himself, too. Found himself looking at Mark whenever the others weren't noticing, feeling a rush of soft affection that swelled in him until they'd catch each other's eye and he'd see Mark smile fondly back.

It was a rare free afternoon. Bryan went out first, said something about needing to get some shopping done. Half an hour later Kian announced he was thinking of going to the cinema, if anyone wanted to come. Shane took him up on it. Mark declined.

Then it was just Nicky and Mark, sat unexpectedly alone in the living room, staring at each other.

They were running for the stairs before the front door had even closed properly.

They ended up in Mark's room this time. He was just about tackled to the bed, felt the air rush out of him, then it was yanking at clothes, fingers through hair. Mark on top and pulling at Nicky's boxers while Nicky tried to help, though Mark's weight was stopping him getting his hips up to allow it and it was all a bit of a fucking shambles, honestly.

They came off a giggling second later. Mark kicked off his own, and there. Fucking there. Hard press, the scratch of hair when their groins collided, Nicky's foot tangled in the duvet of the bed Mark hadn't bothered to make, and his fingernails making long scratches down a supple back while he was kissed furiously, both of them sniggering into it like they were doing something naughty.

“Wanted you,” Mark groaned into his neck. Nicky shivered. Teeth scraped his throat. “Couldn't stop thinking about it.” He looked up, eyes dark. “Can I suck you? Been wanting to suck you.”

“Oh... Jesus. Yes.” Nicky tipped his head back, not sure he could look at Mark while he was saying things like that, not without losing it. He was throbbing. Could feel it with every rocking press. “Have you ever...?”

“No.” Mark was slithering down already. Naked. Nicky couldn't see much, not with the proximity and the angle, but he could see a perfect arse, long back. Messy kisses followed Mark down, sucking down Nicky's stomach, over his groin. He whimpered. Felt lips suck up the shaft before locking over the head, sliding down.

“Oh.” His head went back again. Wet. Christ. “Oh. Mark.” He shuddered. Felt the sink of a mouth around him, going deeper. The scrape of teeth. Okay, not perfect. Scrape again. Pulled back slightly, trying to adjust the angle, and then okay, that was a bit better, a hand sneaking up the inside of his thighs to fondle clumsily at his balls, tugging.

Tugging...

“Ow!” He yelped. Felt the mouth let go.

“What's wrong?”

“Bit hard?” He winced. Felt his balls tighten into his body, like the were trying to hide.

“Really? That's how I like it.”

“Is your sac made of iron?” Nicky asked. Mark shrugged, going red. Nicky reached down to adjust himself. Mark was watching him apologetically, sat back on his knees at Nicky's feet. “Maybe stay away from my balls?” he suggested. “And erm...” He felt like a prick bringing it up, but he supposed it was better to get it out of the way now. “Watch your teeth, maybe?”

“Oh.” Mark was either annoyed or embarrassed. Nicky wasn't sure which, but his eyebrows were definitely knitting in. “Any other tips?”

“No. No, that's mostly... it.” Nicky bit his lip. “Sorry.”

“S'fine.” Mark looked like he didn't want to try again. “Erm...” There were meant to be words following that, Nicky was sure of it.

“Yes?”

“I mean, the taste isn't great, you know?”

“I'm sorry?” It was Nicky's turn to glare. “I'm clean.”

“I'm not saying you're not,” Mark said quickly. “Don't mean that at all. Just... I mean, I suppose it's an acquired taste. It wasn't awful.”

“You don't have to do it again.”

“Well, considering I'm awful at it...”

“You're not...” Nicky groaned, putting his hand over his eyes in frustration. “I didn't mean that. Just like... watch your teeth and don't rip my balls off. S'all I'm saying.” Mark was glaring. Nicky sat up. “Get on your back.”

“What?”

“I'm going to give you one.” Mark tilted his head in surprise. Nicky stared defiantly back. Maybe he didn't know what he was doing either, wasn't sure if he was ready for something that went so thoroughly under the column of being with a man, but fuck it, now he had a point to make. “Get on your back.”

“Romantic.”

“I'll yank on your balls and everything,” Nicky retorted. That made Mark laugh, and Nicky found himself giggling too, not sure when this had gotten so ridiculous. He leaned forward, on his knees and groaning. Felt a hand stroke over his thigh and opened his eyes to Mark smiling at him.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Nicky sighed. Realised he'd not even looked at Mark naked until this point, not properly. He was lovely. Sitting awkwardly as though he was worried Nicky would get the wrong angle and lose interest. Nicky didn't see how he could. Over the last few weeks of waiting he'd realised that maybe this was it, the spark he'd been missing. Had found himself wanting to touch, the urge so tempting sometimes he'd had to put his hands behind his back to stop himself. Every curve and line wanted Nicky's hands. Now it was even better, letting his gaze drift over everything from the sinew of his neck to the tensing swell of his hip to the hard cock nestled in dark hair.

He was fucking beautiful.

“What?”

“Just....” He pulled Mark in, down to the bed, Nicky wrapping around him until they were pressed together again, soft skin, the surprisingly intoxicating feeling of stiffness against his thigh.

“Sorry,” Mark mumbled.

“S'alright.” He closed his eyes, fell into another kiss. It deepened. Hand on his waist, urging them closer, his own hand on a firm arse that tensed under his touch. When the kiss parted he felt lightheaded, opened his eyes to a blue gaze watching him carefully. “I've never done this before.”

“I know. Me either.”

“With a boy,” Nicky added. “I've done it with girls, I mean.” Mark was blinking, looked like he was waiting for Nicky to continue. “Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm not...” He shook his head guiltily.

“It's a mistake?”

“No,” Nicky murmured. “Not a mistake.” He pecked reddened lips again. Couldn't stop himself. Too perfect. Too soft. “I want you, which is mad. I've never wanted... a boy before. A man.” He saw a nervous tongue dart out to wet those perfect lips.

“I'm gay.”

“I figured.” Nicky stroked a hand through dark hair. Then the kiss mended again. He moaned. Felt hips tilt against him and tried to touch, run his hand over this gorgeous boy, trying to console the difference between this and what he'd been used to. All he could feel was Mark, though, the rumbling noise of pleasure that trembled on his tongue. Could taste him. Smell him. That thing that had been circling for weeks.

Mark breathed his name. Nicky gulped it up. Arched at the grip on his arse, felt them rub together. Slid a hand between them, and Christ there it was. Mark's cock, swelling. Twitching when he sped up, caressing under a swollen head that seemed to throb in his grip.

“Oh god,” Mark mumbled. Nicky kissed him harder. Almost savage. “Nicky,” he gasped. “Too good.” Nicky sped up. Tightened his hold. Felt Mark shiver. “Too good. Stop,” he breathed, though it was swallowed by the next kiss. “Nicky. I can't...”

He rolled on top. Pushed down. Heard Mark yelp, then...

“ _Anybody home?”_

“Fuck,” Nicky snapped. Then his hand was unexpectedly flooded. Mark gasped, arching away from him, his hand in Nicky's hair and hips rocking like they were riding an invisible horse. Nicky opened his mouth to say something. Wasn't sure what. Mark was already looking guilty, even when his eyes rolled back for a moment.

“Sor-orry,” he blurted. He was still coming. Nicky didn't know quite what to do except let go. Heard a whine that was partway between pleasure and annoyance.

He heard Bryan's feet echoing across the downstairs, then start to ascend. Mark clapped a hand over his mouth. There was a knock at the door. It wasn't locked. Nicky ran to get it, then remembered it was Mark's room. Saw Mark stare in horror.

“Busy, Bryan!”

“What are you doing?” There was a long pause. “You having a wank?”

“None of your business.” There was a loud snigger. “Fuck off!”

“Where's everyone else?”

“Out! Go away!”

“Fine! When you're done I've got fish and chips. Wash your hands first.” He moved away again. They looked at each other helplessly. Mark was giving him a sleepy, guiltily sated look that Nicky had to admit was completely gorgeous.

“Sorry.”

Nicky climbed back onto the bed.

“Yeah.” He lay back down. Heard Mark make a soft huff of apology. A hand gathered him up, tugged for a second, then gave up when Nicky shook his head.

“I can...”

“It's fine. Moment's gone.” He looked at Mark. Flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “How was it for you?” A hot face buried into his shoulder.

“I did warn you.”

Nicky couldn't be bothered to reply to that. Instead he kissed Mark's hair and closed his eyes, wondering how they were going to get this one around Bryan.

  
  


*

  
  


Three days later and Nicky suspected he was getting desperate.

He didn't know what to think about what had happened so far. Suspected it was all a bit embarrassing and pathetic in hindsight. A dodgy blowjob, a too-fast handy, and he'd not even gotten to come himself yet, apart from in the shower. Though despite the crap attempts at shagging it was still Mark's face he thought of when he finished, the feel of him. The way he'd arched, desperate in Nicky's arms, and the way they'd laughed together when it had all gone completely tits up.

Afterwards he'd snuck back to his room, gotten dressed, climbed out the window, then knocked on the front door, said he'd come back from his walk and was that chips he could smell?

Still, there were other things to distract him. Last run of promotion was done for the new album and they were definitely doing Fool Again for the next single. Everything was still manic. Louis' mantra had more or less become 'be seen', so that was what they were doing. Making sure that nobody could forgot about them for a second. Nicky got sick of parroting the same answers to the same questions, but he did like being backstage, talking to the crew and presenters. He'd always liked the idea of television and radio, loved to go poking around looking at how everything worked. A couple of times he got to do a bit of acting. It was great craic. And every now and then he'd catch Mark's eye and see a soft, proud look, and that was even better.

They were leaving a CD:UK filming when he realised he'd left his keys somewhere.

“What's wrong?” Mark asked, while he was busy patting his pockets increasingly frantically.

“Keys.” He stripped off his jacket, tipped it upside down, but nothing fell out. Thrust it into Mark's hands and then began to go through his jeans pockets again while Mark watched him with growing concern.

“Did you have them in the green room?” Nicky hesitated. He thought he had, but... “I'll go check.” Mark handed his jacket back and stalked off, purpose in his steps. The others were looking impatient.

“Do you want us to wait?” Shane asked. Nicky bit his lip.

“No. We'll catch up.” They were going in two cars anyway, he and Mark could get the next one. “Just let the driver know we'll be ten minutes?” They nodded and wandered off. Nicky followed Mark.

He found him in the green room, on his knees and peering under the sofa. Perfect cherry arse sticking out and for a second Nicky forgot where he was and what he was doing. Then Mark turned and looked up.

“Found 'em,” he announced. Nicky blinked, not sure what he was talking about. He remembered about the time a set of keys were tossed towards his face. He caught them awkwardly. Mark tilted his head. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Mark stood up. It was a shame. “Erm...” He shut the door behind himself. Saw Mark's eyes narrow in confusion, then widen when he realised. Nicky was already taking the five steps he needed to close the gap.

He didn't kiss Mark so much as collect him. There was a noise of surprise that resolved into a moan between their open mouths, his tongue tangling into Mark's. Felt hot breath. A hand on his arse, grabbing suddenly hard. They hit the wall, then he was pinned, one leg hitching to allow it, the weight of Mark making him groan.

“Need you,” Nicky growled. “Rub me off. I need it.” Which was a ridiculous thing to say, but Mark was laughing, hand slipping down the back of his jeans to grab again, firm when it gathered a handful of muscle and yanked higher, making Nicky yelp.

He kissed Mark again. Hard. Slipped his own hand between them and began to rut against it, needing some sort of pressure. Felt like a desperate teenager again, grinding embarrassingly through clothes, but Mark's smell was aphrodesiac enough.

“That's it,” he gasped. “Ah...” His own eyes squeezed shut. The hand on his arse shifted, then he stiffened when he felt a finger touch to him. To a spot he'd _really_ not expected to be touched.

He pushed away automatically, forcing back out of Mark's arms. There was a flailing, panting moment and he realised he was halfway across the room, more clenched than he'd ever known he could be. Heart hammering a fucking jackhammer and Mark staring in surprise.

“What's wrong?”

“What do you think you're doing?”

“I was going to...” Mark was going red, looked as baffled as Nicky felt. “I thought you'd like it.”

“You didn't want to ask?”

“I wasn't going to put it _in_ , Nicky,” Mark retorted. He looked annoyed, now. “Just, it's nice sometimes.”

“Fucking is it?” Nicky crossed his arms. Mark sank to the sofa. He looked defeated. The bulge in his jeans didn't help the look. Nicky realised perhaps he'd overreacted. “Sorry.” He could hear the defensiveness in his own voice. “Sorry,” he said again, trying to soften it. Mark wasn't looking at him. “I'm sorry.” He crouched down, wincing when his over-full balls rubbed into rough fabric.

“I wasn't going to like...”

“I... yeah. Sorry.” He closed his eyes, tried to collect himself. “You just surprised me. I didn't expect...” He gathered up Mark's hands. “It was just...”

“Was it too gay for you?” There was something sniped in the way he said it. Nicky bit his lip. He hadn't thought that, exactly, but yeah, maybe that was part of it. Crossing a threshold when he hadn't even expected to be stood on the doorstep. “What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what's this?” Mark's hand tugged out of his grip to gesture between the two of them. “Because either this is a casual thing, which isn't working out at all, or it's something more, which isn't working out either.” He looked tired and confused. Nicky felt much the same. “We're not fucking and we're not dating, and honestly...” He looked away slightly, guarded. “I dunno. We're not even really friends any more, are we?”

“Of course we are,” Nicky argued. Mark shrugged. “We're friends.”

“We don't act like it, though. I mean, we pretend to so people won't notice we're fucking. Or not fucking. But we don't like...” He sighed. “Dunno. I'm not...” His cheeks were going red. “If this is your experimental phase or whatever, that's your business, but I don't really see how it's working out for either of us.” His eyes locked with Nicky's again, shiny with frustration, then he stood up, headed for the door. Nicky stared helplessly after him. “I'll see you in the car. Don't forget your keys.”

He disappeared.

After a minute Nicky got up and followed.

  
  


*

  
  


Nicky didn't know what to say to Mark after that. They rode together in silence, both staring out opposite windows while Nicky tried to collect his thoughts. He had quite a lot of them, though once he got them all in a pile to better look at them it seemed more evident that they needed to be used as kindling rather than taken apart and dissected.

They got on with it. It wasn't so hard, they'd been doing the same thing for weeks, pretending things were normal between them when they very decidedly weren't. Last time had been for more exciting reasons, less the cold guilt and misery it was now, but they kept going. Smiling at each other and carrying on circular converations that didn't require them to have to actually say anything.

Nicky missed him. A stupid thought, when they'd never had each other, but at night, laid in his bed and staring at the dark ceiling, he missed what they'd had over Christmas holidays. Just talking, and laughing, and behaving as though it didn't matter about the sex so much because Mark made Nicky smile. Made him feel like he was aglow, an ache that didn't go away when he hung up the phone.

He wanted that. Didn't know if he could be the kind of person who could have that with Mark.

They went on the road again. A short roadshow around Asia to promote the album, then off to Mexico to film the next video. In hotel rooms all by themselves and here, finally, was the chance to tiptoe down the hall. To slip into bed with Mark and do what he'd wanted to two months ago, before he'd fucked everything up.

He didn't. Stayed in his room instead, watching television until someone came to tell him the car was ready.

He didn't know what he wanted. How he expected things to change. It felt endless. A grey filter over the world he didn't know how to shift. Didn't know where he'd expected things to go. He'd never wanted to have sex with a man. But Mark...

The others were all at lunch, clustered around the trailer eating sandwiches. Nicky couldn't be there any more. Watching Mark laugh with Shane over something and feeling, absurdly, like he wanted to shove Shane away. Because...

He slipped away. Went to sit on the other side of the square, aware he couldn't go too far in case a minder got upset. There was a bench to sit on at least, and he sank down, nibbling at the corner of the sandwich he'd swiped on the way.

A shadow fell over him when he was almost done. He looked up, saw a careful smile.

“Seat taken?”

Nicky shook his head, scooted aside. Mark sank down beside him. He looked nice. Black jacket and trousers. Nicky felt a little chilly himself, in what was an almost see-through black sweater, but it was that thing. Matching clothes and cute haircuts for the girls to enjoy, as though they were the softest gang of all time.

“Your shots looked good today.”

“Thanks,” Nicky said softly. Mark was watching him expectantly. “Should turn out well.”

“You nervous about going up on the helipad thing?”

“Not sure,” Nicky admitted. It felt a bit daunting, being on the top of a skyscraper in the wind, helicopter circling above them, but he'd never been that scared of heights. He put the second half of his sandwich down on the bench beside him. “Bryan's bricking it.”

“I know,” Mark snorted. “Want to help me freak him out?”

“What were you thinking?”

“Dunno. Run towards the edge, pretend to wobble. That sort of stuff.” Nicky sniggered. Bryan wasn't good with heights at all.

“Doesn't sound safe.”

“Well, I wasn't actually going to fall off,” Mark retorted. Nicky found himself smiling. A hand touched tentatively to his shoulder, then just as quickly retreated. A shiver ran through him, something hot and desperate that needed _more_. “You okay?”

“Dunno. Yeah.” Mark was studying him. “I dunno. Tired.”

“Tell me about it.” The lopsided smile made Nicky's heart leap. “Sorry I touched your bum.”

Nicky laughed out loud, surprised. Mark giggled too. Covered his mouth to hide it. Then they were falling against each other on the bench, cackling like idiots. Nicky's chest hurt. He couldn't stop. Saw tears stream from crinkled blue eyes and had to put his hand on Mark's shoulder to brace himself, face aching, then used it to pull Mark into a hug, hiccups of laughter shaking him, the cage of Mark's chest a heaving press against his own.

“What's so funny?”

Nicky waved Kian away, not able to explain. Mark was gasping into the hand he'd put over his mouth. They separated carefully while the other three stared at them in confusion. Mark wiped his eyes.

“Ah, fuck,” he croaked. Nicky buried his face in his hands, shaking. A hand slapped down on his shoulder. “Good chat.”

“Yeah, well...” Bryan gestured over his shoulder. “They want us back, so...”

“Coming,” Nicky managed. He stood. Helped Mark up too, then let out a long breath. One that felt like pushing out all the uncertainty of the last months.

They began to cross the square again, trailing behind, Nicky nibbling absently at the other half of his sandwich.

He felt a hand nudge his. The brief, brushing touch of it. It felt like a secret. Friendly and soft.

Nicky touched back, the sun warm on his skin.

  
  


*

  
  


They were still friends after all, apparently. Nicky liked being friends with Mark. They spent more time together, now that things felt easier. Not resolved. Not by a long shot. Easier, though. They did things together, when there was time. Going to movies and for the occasional walk. They cooked together, sometimes, Mark sniping at him for chopping the carrots too thick and Nicky retorting that if he didn't sort out his cabbage it was going to over-boil.

It felt like having a best friend. One with a shared secret, something close that was less about lying to everyone else and more like being in it together.

They went to America. It was a slog. Faker-than-fake television audiences and mimed performances on cable shows. Nobody seemed all that interested, and three weeks later Nicky wondered what the point was. Knew they were all thinking it. He was exhausted, kept getting confused with the time-differences and missing the chance to call his parents at a time that wasn't completely inappropriate. It was isolating in a way he hadn't felt before. Out of his depth and too tired to cry exhausted tears.

He finally had the chance to sleep when they hit California. A whole twelve hours of nothing to do. He crashed for hours. Slept most of the afternoon and woke just after eight in the evening to find the others sat on the sofa in their rented flat watching MTV, a pizza between them.

“Where's Mark?”

“Shower,” Kian mumbled around bread and cheese. He swallowed. Took another bite. Apparently he was only talking with his mouth full. “Sorry we didn't wait. Didn't know if you needed more sleep.”

“It's cool.” He sank groggily to the sofa beside Bryan. Felt disoriented. More rested, but tacky and dried out and slow to react. He scrubbed sleep out his eyes, stared pointlessly at the television. Bryan handed him a slice and he took a mechanical bite, more out of habit than want.

The door creaked open.

“Ooh, someone's picking up!”

“Fuck off,” Mark laughed. Bryan threw an empty beer can at him, missed when Mark flinched out of the way.

Nicky was busy trying to peel his tongue off the floor.

“You look nice,” he managed. Mark glanced down at himself. Black leather jacket, black trousers and red shirt open at the top to reveal the slightest tuft of chest hair broken by a small silver cross.

“Thanks.” He was blushing. Looking at Nicky in a lip-bitten way that wanted approval. Nicky was happy to give it. He looked beautiful. Sexy. Nicky suspected he was supposed to do something here, but couldn't think what it was except to stare at him like a gaping idiot, a pang of loss aching somewhere that wasn't necessarily north of his stomach.

“Who's the girl?”

“Nobody. Or... I mean, I know a few people in town, like? Thought I'd catch up with them while I'm here.” It came out too fast. Nicky suspected the people he knew weren't family, and that he maybe didn't know them yet. Something prickled in him. He wanted to stand. Say...

Instead he stayed rooted to the sofa while Mark collected his wallet and keys and left the flat.

“Well at least he's getting some,” Kian commented. He stood up, went to collect a tub of ice-cream from the freezer, then began to dig out bowls and spoons. “Who's having dessert?”

“I might go to the gym, actually,” Nicky decided. There was a communal one in the basement, and he'd barely had any time the last few weeks apart from some hurried sit-ups when he remembered or had a minute free. “Anyone coming?”

They seemed much more interested in the ice-cream. Nicky was glad. He hadn't really wanted company.

He ran on the treadmill for ages. It was good, running. Just late enough that nobody else was there, so he zoned into it, headphones on and feet pounding, trying to focus.

On something other than Mark, looking completely amazing, while Nicky had sat there. Let him leave without saying anything, despite having no idea what to say.

Mark was his own person. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. There was nothing Nicky could say. Nothing that wouldn't start this whole ridiculous carousel again. Wanting and touching and retreating, in an endless loop that always came around to the same spot. The one where Nicky couldn't be...

He climbed off, sweaty and lightheaded. Went to the punching bag instead and began to work on being too tired to care about it.

It was almost fifteen minutes later, his knuckles stinging and legs cramping, that the door creaked open.

He saw a smile. Blue eyes. Dark hair. Got a nod of acknowledgement while the guy crossed over to the treadmill Nicky had vacated and put his water-bottle in the holder then climbed on to start an easy jog.

Nicky found himself watching. Not sure what he was looking for, but stealing surreptitious glances anyway, between jabs. At thick muscles moving in solid thighs, the tense of an arse cradled by shorts that were just tight enough to cling. Broad back under a loose tank, flexing every time he moved, loping purposefully to some goal in the distance.

He was sexy, Nicky supposed. An attractive guy who probably did alright, if the cute face and good body was anything to go by.

So no, maybe Nicky wasn't gay. Or maybe he was, and he just had very specific tastes.

Or maybe he just wanted Mark.

He closed his eyes to breathe. Sank for a moment into the remembered press of stiffness against him, the hunger in that soft, wet mouth. Feeling lost and so close to coming all he could do was hang on, breathe Mark in, and try not to think about what any of it meant, because he'd felt...

He didn't know what he was doing. Maybe Mark didn't either, but he was out there, figuring it out, while Nicky panicked at one iffy blowjob as if it was the excuse he needed to shut the whole thing down. Because he was frightened that he couldn't just do casual with Mark. That sex was the least of his worries.

The flat was empty when he got back up. Checked his phone. Missed call, and a message letting him know they were going to the bar down the road with Fran and Paul if he wanted to join them when he was done. His thumb hovered over the button for a moment, then he hesitated, backed up and scrolled through to Mark's number.

_Where are you?_

It was a long five minutes before he got a reply.

He dressed quickly and went to hail a cab.

  
  


*

  
  


The club was packed. Nicky flashed his I.D, pushed through the doors. Wondered how Mark had gotten in, exactly, considering the legal drinking age in this stupid country was twenty-one, then decided it probably didn't matter if he couldn't find Mark anyway.

He shuffled through, trying to keep his head above the crowd. Was halfway across the floor when he realised he hadn't seen a woman yet, and that a lot of people had forgotten about shirts. There were bubbles and strobe lights, and when he finally squashed up to the bar the bartender was in tiny shorts and a see-through waistcoat and dickie-bow.

“What'll you have, love?”

“Erm.” Nicky realised he was out of his league. Stupid, probably. It was a bar, there was music, and he knew what cocktails he liked. “Just a... a vodka soda please?” The bartender turned away with a nod. Nicky looked around for a sign of Mark, eyes darting away when he realised the large, muscular man a few stools down was giving him what could be definitely be described as the eye. “Hey, have you seen a guy about this tall? Dark hair and a leather jacket?” The bartender shrugged. Right, probably didn't narrow it down. “Er... accent like mine?”

“The Irish kid,” the guy next to him supplied. Nicky agreed gratefully. “Yeah. Saw him half an hour ago.”

“Was he with anyone? Did you...”

“Why? Is he straying?” A smirk crossed his mouth. “If you want to make it even, I'm not waiting for anyone.” He touched Nicky's hand. Nicky tried not to pull it away too fast.

“No... no thanks.” His drink came, thank god. He took it, thanked the guy, then fled through the crowd, which was made awkward by trying to push quickly through a wall of people with a full glass in his hand. It took a couple of attempts, but then he was in again, trying to peer at faces in the confusion of darkness and colour.

Ten minutes later he was ready to give up. His drink was gone, he was stuck in the back near the bar, and Mark wasn't replying to any of his texts. He headed towards the toilets first, pushing into a corridor that was at least slightly more well-lit.

There was a curtain, just inside. Peered through cautiously. Caught the sound first, then the smell. His eyes adjusted.

He stepped back in surprise, cheeks already hot.

Fuck.

Peered in again, not sure what he was doing. Except maybe Mark was in there. And...

Well, maybe Mark was in there.

He was inside without meaning to be. Dark and close, a muggy funk in the air that was probably not just from the central air. It was animal in here, a moving throbbing alive thing.

Someone pushed in past him and he stepped absently aside. Not as full as he'd thought, maybe only twenty people all up, but they were having a good enough time. He couldn't see too far ahead, but enough to at least step around the couple fucking against the wall. It was a corridor more than a room, twisting along the back of the club, the darkness hiding what was probably a devastating lack of hygiene. He tried not to breath. Turned the corner. Hoped his search for Mark wasn't being misconstrued as staring at people or looking for permission.

Dark hair. Eyes closed as his head tilted back. There was someone on him, groping at his trousers while Nicky tried not to physically assault a boy with blonde hair and a cheeky smile who looked barely as legal as Mark did.

They laughed. Nicky watched the lad pin Mark into a hard snog. It wasn't the first of the night. Mark's lips were swollen. Nicky's hands were clenched.

He restrained himself enough to tap on the lad's naked shoulder. Saw two sets of eyes dart to him in surprise. Shoved him out of the way and yanked Mark into a kiss instead, ignoring the taste of someone else's mouth. He felt savage. Angry. Grabbed both Mark's wrists and slammed them to the wall by his sides, pressing in close.

It broke on a bruising bite Nicky couldn't help but force to soft lips. Mark was breathless. Hard.

“Hey...”

“Go away,” Nicky growled. Mark's eyes widened. The boy wandered off, hands up in defeat, as though he couldn't be bothered dealing with this sort of crap in the name of a shag.

“Nicky, what are you...” Nicky cut him off again. Then Mark was kissing him back. He let go of Mark's wrists, pulled him in instead, and felt hands on him. Grabbing at Nicky's arse while they both grappled at each other, hard and hot in a sweaty, heaving corridor.

He forced his hand down. Into open trousers. Felt Mark arch and tasted the soft cry when Nicky gathered throbbing flesh that fit perfectly into his grip. Dropped to his knees. Not sure what he was doing except he had a point to make that started with getting Mark out of his trousers and into...

It tasted weird. He didn't care. Swallowed down, sucking, then drew back. Tried not to choke, to keep his teeth out of the way. It was harder than he'd expected. Felt a hand settle on the back of his head and tried to breathe through the slight sense of panic.

“Fuck...” It was almost snatched away by the pulsing music he could hear through the wall, the dark moans of the other people Nicky was trying to ignore, everything shrunk down to this. “Nicky...”

He reached up, hands fumbling to stop himself going too deep. Felt another man's balls brush against the tips of his fingers. Felt lost for a second, then remembered.

He tugged gently. A little harder when it appeared Mark didn't mind. Heard another cry, and felt the grip in his hair tense. Surging into his mouth, a pulsing grind of flesh that made his jaw ache a bit and tears spring to his eyes. Looked up to see that face, the one lost in surprise and pleasure while Nicky took him back in a shitty corridor in the back of a crowded club.

There wasn't much else to do but keep going. He drifted in it. Like the run earlier that day. Purposeful and determined, pushing through everything else to the goal ahead. To Mark, leaking into his mouth while he swelled and twitched, Nicky gulping around him, taking him in. Revelling in the grip on his hair, the want he could feel in every controlled thrust. The sagging lower lip that hung in lost wonder while Nicky slurped down every awkward mouthful.

Tugged again. Felt Mark's hips snap, so close, then on a whim reached back. Tentative and seriously unsure. Felt the edge of it, then the pucker of him, clenching on his finger. Pressed and felt the heat of him while Nicky's own cock throbbed in his trousers and Mark let out a harsh shout.

His mouth flooded. He choked. Hadn't expected it. Pulled away, coughing, spitting it out. Not a great taste, no, but when he looked up Mark was laughing, cheeks red.

Nicky stood, blushing too.

An arm wrapped around him, pulling him in. Sweaty smell of him. Nicky breathed. Sucked a kiss to his throat because he couldn't not do it, couldn't get enough of the hand that cupped over his arse again, pulling him in.

“Where did that come from?” He sounded like sex. Nicky shivered, felt a hand slide between them and squeeze. “Not that I'm complaining.”

Couldn't explain it. How much he _wanted_. Mark dropped, and Nicky groaned when his jeans were wrestled open, when a hot mouth sank down over him. Deep, slurping suck that was all hotness and breath. Reached forward to brace on the wall while Mark took him. Sucked him down. Almost reverent in it's slowness. Fingers sneaking in to cradle his balls, rolling them carefully between long fingers.

He cried out, eyes crossing. No teeth, just _slide_ , Mark's mouth an open sheath that took him deep. Dark eyes looked up at him with total want. He buckled slightly. Felt a hand steady him, firm on his arse. Gasped out a warning. Felt the tremor of everything drawing in to that perfect, tense moment of singularity, eyelashes fluttering and mouth slackening and toes curling and Mark's hand on his arse. It seemed to stretch for ages, and he tried to make it last, to bask in every suck of it, but eventually he felt the intensity pull him in. Made the mistake of looking down into eyes half-closed and watching him, flushed cheeks and a chin flooded in drool, and felt himself go. Let himself go.

Mark took it. Gulped him down while Nicky spilled out in a hot burst that made his head rock back and knees buckle again. Slow drag of Mark drawing off, his lips parting helplessly into the kiss that happened without him realising Mark had stood.

He sagged. Heard a sated laugh in his ear, then giggled himself when Mark picked a ginger pube out of his mouth, inspected it, then flicked it away.

“You okay?”

“Mm.” Nicky closed his eyes. Wondered if he could sleep here for a bit, then remembered exactly where he was. He pulled back. Mark was smiling at him. “Sorry. I interrupted.” Mark snorted.

“Do you want another drink?”

“You're not legal,” Nicky said sternly. Mark raised his eyebrow. “No. Ehm. Going to go back, probably. Cab. That sort of thing.”

“That sort of thing,” Mark echoed, laughing. His hands were refastening Nicky's jeans. Nicky was too dazed to be embarrassed. “Shall I come with you?”

“Yes. Yes please.” They pushed through, down the corridor, through the crowd, and then it was fresh cold air on his face and in his lungs. He blinked. Felt an arm wrap around his waist. “Do you erm...” He leaned his head on Mark's shoulder. “Do you go to places often?”

“No. Just figured nobody knows us here.”

“We've been promoting for weeks.”

“And nobody fucking knows us here,” Mark repeated. Nicky snorted. “Mostly want to go home, to be honest. Was just kind of... dunno. Tired. Bored. Looking for something.”

“Did you find it?”

“Not a clue.” They separated for Mark to hail a cab. Nicky slid into the back. Mark followed.

They rode in silence. When they got back the others were still out. Nicky settled on the sofa, still adrift. Mark handed him a beer. Sat down too. That easy, comfortable friendship they had every other day when they were crammed on a bus together or mucking around backstage. He breathed out slowly, the familiarity too intense after what had happened that evening.

“I haven't decided,” he admitted. Mark tilted his head, questioning. “What this is. What I... want it to be.” Mark nodded. “I want to um...” He put down his beer. “I don't want you to feel like you have to wait around for me. I'm not sure I'm ready. That I'll ever... be ready. If this is even me, or if it's just...” He closed his eyes. A hand settled on his shoulder.

“It's okay,” Mark murmured. Nicky nodded.

“Thanks.” He opened his eyes again. Comforting smile. “I can't make promises.”

“I don't expect them.” An arm wrapped around his shoulders. “You think I've got this figured out? I haven't a clue either.” He laughed. Nicky did as well, a groaning giggle into a neck that smelled of cologne and sex. “You do what you need, and maybe if it's meant to be something, it will be.”

“Yeah.” Maybe it was the opposite of concrete, but the uncertainty made him relax a little. No expectations. No pressure. Mark tousled his hair, pressed a kiss to his forehead, then stood. “Where you going?”

“Going to have a shower.” Mark was already shrugging off his jacket. “I don't know if you noticed, but it wasn't exactly hygienic in there.”

Nicky snorted a laugh. “Not just me, then?”

“Probably caught nine things off the curtain on the way in. Going to brush my teeth, too. Someone came in my mouth, and it was a bit rank.” Nicky gasped indignantly, hurling a cushion. Mark caught it, leaned down and kissed his forehead again.

“Probably an acquired taste,” Nicky muttered

“Wasn't awful.” Mark squeezed his hand. “Though if you're going to finger me, maybe cut your nails.”

“I'll remember that for next time,” Nicky sniped, then realised what he'd said. Mark raised an eyebrow.

“Next time?”

“Maybe.” It came out as a mumble. Mark pulled away, smirking.

“Sounds fun.”

He sauntered off.

The shower began to run in the other room.

Nicky sat on the sofa by himself, wrapped in the warmth of his own smile.

 


End file.
